


need you to need me

by honooko



Category: VIXX
Genre: Bossy Hakyeon, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 09:38:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12340131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honooko/pseuds/honooko
Summary: Hakyeon and Taekwoon, alone in the dance studio, needing each other.





	need you to need me

**Author's Note:**

> Blame Meilun. Blame her for everything.

Taekwoon sees his fingertips resting on Hakyeon’s hips in the mirror; it feels strange, disconnected, because the way they’re standing in the reflection isn’t how Taekwoon is picturing them in his head. He would never stand so close like that, feeling the heat of Hakyeon’s back against his chest. Hakyeon’s hand couldn’t possibly snake up his shoulder to rest against the back of his neck, possessive. Hakyeon wouldn’t bite his lip in a way that made Taekwoon so deliberately _aware_ of Hakyeon’s lips.

Except he is. The realization sweeps through him, and his hold on Hakyeon’s hips tightens. Hakyeon makes a sound, a breath, just enough to tell Taekwoon he feels it, and then he rolls again. He stretches upwards, bare feet tensing, and his shirt rides up just enough to tempt Taekwoon into letting his fingers roam a bit, brushing against the waistband of Hakyeon’s distractingly tight skinny jeans and climbing ever so slightly upwards.

“Do you feel it now?” Hakyeon asks him, and Taekwoon has no idea how he’s supposed to answer that question, because he’s feeling so many things that he isn’t even sure which one Hakyeon is asking about. Is it the way Hakyeon feels so comfortable against him? Is it the way Hakyeon’s hips are moving, no longer really connected to the choreography or music anymore? Is it the soft, smug weight of Hakyeon’s voice in his ear? No matter what the question is, his answer would be a resounding, slightly desperate, “ _Yes._ ” But that’s embarrassing to say, so he doesn’t voice it.

Taekwoon wants to hide, but his favorite hiding place is exactly where he is now, and looking at himself in the mirror only makes him more aware of how close they are, so he drops his head against Hakyeon’s shoulder, thinking maybe if he can’t see it, it can’t affect him. Hakyeon’s nails scratch at the back of his neck and he jerks his head.

“Let me see you,” Hakyeon murmurs, just firm enough to feel more like an order than a request. Taekwoon raises his face again, meeting Hakyeon’s gaze through the mirror; Hakyeon’s eyes are smoldering, a step above even the cocky expression he wears on stage. Taekwoon closes his eyes and presses his nose behind Hakyeon’s ear. He smells like sweat and clean towels.

Hakyeon’s free hand settles on Taekwoon’s right; he guides Taekwoon’s touch, steering him up and under the soft loose shirt that Taekwoon not-so-secretly loves to see him in. His fingertips stutter, unsure, but as ever Hakyeon is there to press his palm flat, supporting and bolstering his fragile confidence. He hums, but he must have noticed that Taekwoon was doing everything he could not to watch.

“Look,” Hakyeon say again in that voice that feels impossible not to obey. “Look at us.” 

“You look good,” Taekwoon confides softly in Hakyeon’s ear. He is treated to a laugh, and he can feel Hakyeon’s stomach tighten under his hand.

“No, _we_ look good,” Hakyeon corrects him. Taekwoon looks again, against his better judgment, trying to see them the way Hakyeon must. He sees Hakyeon, beautiful and sweaty and tan, and himself, wrapping around Hakyeon like he wants to melt them together. Hakyeon is arching into his touch, visibly wanting in a way no one else ever gets to see.

They do look good, if he’s perfectly honest with himself. It’s a strange sort of encouragement, because now he can see the parts of Hakyeon he’s neglecting. He realizes he can kiss Hakyeon’s jaw, soft at first, because it doesn’t matter how many times he does this, he’s still nervous, still shy, still cautious. Hakyeon has never complained to him or refused him, but there’s a tiny part of Taekwoon that worries someday, he will.

Hakyeon’s fingers move from his neck to his hair, and he grabs enough to pull.

“You can do better,” Hakyeon says, and Taekwoon believes him. His hesitant kisses devolve into what he really wanted to do in the first place: he bites, teeth scraping against Hakyeon’s neck followed by a soothing swipe of his tongue. Hakyeon moans and Taekwoon bites harder. Hakyeon’s hips, his _damn hips_ are rolling again, popping, and Taekwoon is suddenly frustrated with the entire pretense. He pulls Hakyeon back, snug against him so each roll is a delicious pressure that’s almost satisfying. Just in case Hakyeon wasn’t following his train of thought, Taekwoon reaches down to palm him through his jeans. 

Hakyeon yanks on his hair, and even though it kind of hurts, Taekwoon smiles, because they are definitely on the same page. Taekwoon looks in the mirror again, pleased to see that Hakyeon’s eyes are closed, mouth parted as he takes shaky breaths. He’s starting to look the way Taekwoon likes the most: unraveling, edges fraying and control slipping because he just doesn’t care about being perfect anymore.

“Show me,” Taekwoon murmurs against Hakyeon’s skin. Hakyeon grins, letting his head fall back on Taekwoon’s shoulder, but he shakes his head and pulls on Taekwoon’s hair again.

“Rude,” he admonishes gently. “Try again.”

“Show me _please_ ,” Taekwoon amends, and Hakyeon brings his hand up to run softly down Taekwoon’s face. It makes him shiver, and he doesn’t know why that gesture, more than anything else so far, shakes him. It’s so simple, so affectionate, so loving that Taekwoon doesn’t know what to do with the range of feelings that bubble to the surface. He doesn’t need to think about it for too long though, because Hakyeon is putting on a show for him now.

It starts simple, just a slow shifting of his weight from one foot to the other that shows only in the tilt of his hips. The hand that had been stroking Taekwoon’s cheek is now sliding down his forearm and using Taekwoon’s hand to pull up his shirt. His pale hand is almost stark against the warm tan of Hakyeon’s skin, and he curls his fingers so his fingernails drag. Hakyeon takes Taekwoon’s other hand and guides it to the waistband of his jeans.

“Pop it for me,” Hakyeon purrs at him and Taekwoon obeys with no hesitation whatsoever. His hands are shaking, but he manages it. As soon as it’s open, Hakyeon twists their fingers together and brings their hands to his mouth; he kisses Taekwoon’s palm with that same warm affection that has, on several occasions, made him lose his nerve entirely under the weight of such open-hearted trust.

But before his stomach has a chance to twist into nervous knots, Hakyeon reaches into his own jeans, stroking his cock with a moan that rumbles through Taekwoon’s chest. It’s still a show; Hakeyon is still moving in that slow, silky way of his that unfolds, flutters open, airy and elegant. Taekwoon wishes he could move half as well, be half as beautiful, but he also knows he has his own kind of charm that Hakyeon loves. Taekwoon pulls Hakyeon’s hand out, away, and reaches in with his own. 

Hakyeon hisses in his ear, and Taekwon can see the sweat beading up along his collarbones. He pulls Hakyeon’s cock out, making sure to keep his strokes strong and confident, no hesitation. Hakyeon moans again, and Taekwoon wants to kiss him so badly he can almost taste Hakyeon on his tongue.

“Hakyeon,” he murmurs, aware of his own increasingly rapid breaths, “Hakyeon, please.” He doesn’t need any more words than that, because Hakyeon has known the words in his head since the day they met. Hakyeon turns his head and they kiss, lips and teeth and tongue, messy. Taekwoon is not good at multitasking, but he’s gotten good at jerking Hakyeon off, so it doesn’t matter so much. Hakyeon thrusts into his hand with increasing desperation and kissing has become something urgent, broken up by moans and muttered directions for faster, harder, _more_.

Taekwoon knows Hakyeon’s close.

“Hakyeon,” he starts to murmur, “Look. Look at us.” Hakyeon rolls his head up, taking in the view.

“Is this it?” Taekwoon asks him, changing his grip. “Is this what you like?”

“Yes,” Hakyeon groans. “Yes, this is—Taekwoon, you’re so good—”

Taekwoon stops, just to be mean. Hakyeon grabs his hair and yanks, frustrated, but it’s what Taekwoon wants, it’s what he _needs_. So he starts again, just the right speed, just the right hold, then stops.

“I swear to god,” Hakyeon says, and suddenly he’s reaching back to roll his palm against Taekwoon’s erection. “Stop playing. I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Taekwoon says, but he doesn’t stop this time; he loves Hakyeon’s skin, the weight of his cock, the smell of his hair—he loves everything, it’s all perfect, and all he needs—

“I need you,” Hakyeon says. “You’re the only one this good.”

That’s it. That’s what he’s been waiting for. He finishes Hakyeon off at the same time as leaving a sizable bite against his shoulder; it was a miracle nobody ever asked why Hakyeon favored shirts with collars. Hakyeon is gasping, cock twitching in Taekwoon’s hand, and Taekwoon only slows his movements when Hakyeon’s grip on his hair goes loose, along with most of his body. Taekwoon tucks Hakyeon back into his jeans, wraps his arms around Hakyeon’s waist, and waits.

He doesn’t wait long; Hakyeon turns in his arms, pressing them chest-to-chest and throwing his arms around Taekwoon’s neck. He kisses so sweetly just after he comes, Taekwoon loves it. Hakyeon takes his time, drawing sounds out of Taekwoon’s throat that he didn’t know he could make. It’s like that sweet mouth is just winding him up in the slowest possible tease, with so much promise. 

Hakyeon rolls his hips against Taekwoon and it feels so good his head spins. It’s not a secret, or even really a surprise, that he’s got a thing for this over-the-clothes friction. He likes naked sex too, but sometimes he just wants the roughness of it, the rush of it, the way regular clothes become sexual in his mind because he can remember the time Hakyeon wore those jeans and they ground against each other in a green room bathroom, or the time Hakyeon had that loose t-shirt and he covered Taekwoon’s mouth with one hand and told him he wasn’t allowed to make a sound, because the kids might hear.

Hakyeon is so good Taekwoon is almost mad about it.

They’re backing up, and Hakyeon’s shoulders hit the mirror; he wraps his legs around Taekwoon’s waist and laughs when Taekwoon swears into his neck. His hands run up the back of Taekwoon’s shirt so his fingers find skin. They kiss more, rough as their hips grind together in a delicious way, just this side of the line between pleasure and pain. Taekwoon doesn’t know when he starts begging, but he notices when Hakyeon tightens his hold, pulling them even closer, rolling them together and murmuring in his ear.

“You like this,” Hakyeon tells him, and he nods because yes, yes he does, he likes it so much that he could cry. “You like it a little rough with me.”

“You,” he agrees. “Only you.”

“Swear,” Hakyeon says.

“I swear, I _swear_ , please—”

Hakyeon rolls, and Taekwoon can’t speak. He’s forgotten every word he ever knew, except Hakyeon’s name, and begging. He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, but he knows it’s close, just a breath away, if Hakyeon would only just _say it._

“Come. Now,” Hakyeon says, nails biting into Taekwoon’s back. The rush of it overtakes him, and his begging turns into wordless gasping. He’s shaking, thrusting raggedly against the beautiful man wrapped around him, until falls back into his own body. Hakyeon presses their foreheads together as Taekwoon reconstructs himself. He hasn’t let go, and he won’t, not until he’s ready. He loves this.

But eventually, they both accept that it’s over, and they need to separate for the time being. Taekwoon lets Hakyeon down, steals one last kiss, and when Hakyeon turns around to start gathering their things to go home, he stubbornly twists a hand in the back of Hakyeon’s shirt.

Hakyeon turns around, but he looks worried; that expression on his face always makes Taekwoon worry too.

“Are you okay?” Hakyeon asks quietly, coming back around to put a hand on his cheek. “That came on kind of fast. Tell me.”

Taekwoon wishes he was good at this; Hakyeon always has the right words. He doesn’t always use them properly, but he has them, and he knows when Taekwoon needs to hear them. He has it down to a science by now: the touch, the expression, the exact phrases needed to evoke the response he was trying to uncover. But Taekwoon always worries about his own words, uncomfortably aware of how nervous he can get just having a conversation. He’s gotten better over the last few years, sure, but he’s still not _good._

“I love you,” he says softly, gently, sincerely, because he does. He doesn’t know how to explain to Hakyeon that sometimes he craves him, needs his touch and his voice and his skin like he needs water and air. His longing overwhelms him sometimes and he can’t explain it, but at least with Hakyeon, he doesn’t have to. Hakyeon reads him like a book; even if Taekwoon can’t say it, he knows.

“I love you too,” Hakyeon says, smiling, and Taekwoon blushes because he knows it’s true, and he’s still happy to hear it, every time.

“Let’s go home,” Taekwoon says, and Hakyeon kisses him one last time, enough to leave him wanting even more.

“Home,” he agrees, leading the way.

Taekwoon follows. He will always, always follow Hakyeon. He loves and trusts and requires this beautiful, enchanting human being in his life just to survive, and he always will.

Hakyeon always leads him home.


End file.
